“I’m…” She was tempted to lie again, but feared compromising the integrity of the audio recording.
“I believe my grandfather was a business partner of Ethan Griffiths’s.”
At that, the lady was already closing the door. “Not interested,” she said.
Sadie put her hand against the finished wood. The woman raised her eyebrows.
“I know you’re not interested but…”
“Let go of the door.” The woman slammed it shut.
Sadie wondered what she was supposed to do now. Hoping to map the route to another spot on her web, she reached into her back pocket, only to discover her iPhone was dead.
“Damn it.”
At that moment, a black SUV drifted down the street, and the automated gate of the Griffiths house opened to admit it. The car rolled into the yard, parking in the driveway to the left of the house. Sadie shoved the dead phone back into her jeans.
“Can I help you?” a man said, lowering the window.
A voice fit for radio, clean of origin.
“Are you Aaron?” she asked as she approached. “I was wondering if you might have a moment to talk about a few properties.” He was a forty-something, clean-shaven white man in a navy-blue suit and tie, his hair slicked back with pomade—handsome in a ’90s razor commercial type of way.
“Who do you represent?”
“I think my grandfather sold your… your grandfather some property. Maybe you know his name. Richard Wong?”
“No, I don’t know that name,” he said, and he glanced at his Rolex. “And it’s been a long day, so.”
He closed the window, emerged from the car, and, avoiding her eyes, headed toward the front steps.
She scrambled to think of something to catch his attention.
“Do you know about the arson ring?” she called out. “Our grandfathers were part of an arson ring. I thought you might want to know about it.”
He turned to her again, his jaw tensed, and she thought she saw a glint of fear in his eyes.
“Are you a high school student?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“Is this some kind of practical joke?”
“No!”
“Where’s the hidden camera?”
“I’m being serious.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shook his head with repugnance, and opened the front door with his keys.
“Well,” she said, following him up the steps. “Shouldn’t I at least tell you—”
“You’re trespassing. Get off my property or I’m calling the police.”
He let himself in.
“Please!” She darted after him, propping the door open with her hand. “I know it’s disturbing, but we really need to talk about this.”
